Pennies From Heaven
by Koshka
Summary: The angels help a rich man discover true wealth.


Pennies From Heaven   
  


"His name is Mike." Tess said. "He's 23, and whatever he wants, he gets, one way or another. But there's one thing he doesn't have that he needs." 

Tess was trying to be patient, but having her car broken down on the side of the road on a hot day was not a situation to inspire patience. "How much longer, Andrew?" 

"I don't know, Tess." Andrew answered from under the hood. He was uncertain as to what the problem was, and that was puzzlement enough to manifest itself in his tone. 

Monica, however, was enjoying the moment, relishing in the feel of the gentle breeze in her hair. "What is it Mike needs, Tess?" she asked. 

"He needs God, Miss Wings. It's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to..." she stopped as a sleek red Porsche, sputtering, slipped onto the shoulder of the road just ahead of their car. 

Andrew looked up. "And there he is now." he said, wiping his hands. 

"So young to be so rich." Monica observed. 

Andrew put the hood of the convertible down, and it's engine started without the least complaint. 

"I believe you know the saying: 'For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and loose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?'" Tess said, watching Mike. 

Andrew felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as a thought touched his soul, even as Tess gave voice to the same impression: "'Treasures of wickedness profit nothing: but righteousness delivereth from death.'" 

He didn't look at either of his two angel friends as he let the grease rag drop, moving towards the sleek red Porsche. 

Behind him, the rag settled to the ground, a blackened, decaying leaf.   
  


Andrew felt something drop on his toe, and stopped, looking down. Seeing it, he squatted down to pick up the coppery object. Turning it over in his hand, he smiled at the image of Abraham Lincoln on the face of the shiny new penny. He remembered his first assignment as an Angel of Death, and the conversation he'd had with Abraham on the way Home. Slipping the penny into his pocket, he approached the red Porsche, and made his appearance. 

"Hi. Looks like you could use some help." he nodded toward the raised hood. 

Mike looked up at the cheerful man offering help, but declined. "I'm waiting for my mechanic, but thanks anyway." 

"Mind if I take a look? I know a thing or two about a Porsche." He went around the front of the car, and looked under the hood, checking to see that all the caps and hoses were tight. "There. That should do it." he said, putting the hood down. 

Mike tried the engine, and it started right off. "Hey! You're an angel!" 

"I do my best." Andrew said with a smile and a nod. He stepped out of the way as the Porsche swerved around him and back onto the road in a hurry. 

"Well, that's thanks for you." Tess said, appearing beside her Angel Boy. 

"Sometimes it's the little things that count, Tess." he said, fingering the penny in his pocket. 

"The little things are of great importance here." Carl said, appearing beside them. Tess looked more than a little surprised by his appearance, a fact which he did his best to ignore, for the moment. "He's never really gotten along with his father, and Asael won't have much longer." 

"Aren't you suppose to be on leave?" Tess asked. 

"I was, but I got called in on short notice, didn't even give me a moment to change, and told me to see that Andrew got that penny." He looked down at his Birkenstocks, slightly grubby shorts, and crumpled T-shirt with a wild island print on the front of it, attire somewhat out of place. 

Andrew couldn't help smiling at the seriousness of his two companions. 

In the blink of an eye, Carl's attire had changed. He now wore longer jeans and a beige T-shirt with a loose denim jacket layered over that, and a pair of sneakers to complete the look that befitted an easy going, though serious minded angel. 

"Well, that's an improvement." Tess said. 

"It's all in the little things." he said, hazel eyes sparkling. "Now if you two will excuse me, there's someone I need to go see." With that, he turned, and a couple steps later, vanished from the sight of angel eyes.   
  


The morning was crisp and cool, perfect for reading poetry in a gazebo, surrounded by flowers giving off scents as beautiful as their blossoms. Monica looked up from finishing another poem, to see Tess standing there, pulling off her gardening gloves. 

"What are you doing, Miss Wings?" 

"Reading poetry, Tess. It doesn't say who wrote it, but listen to this one:   
  


"Pennies From Heaven   
  


"I found a penny today 

"just laying on the ground 

"But it's not just a penny 

"this little coin I've found   
  


"Found pennies come from heaven 

"that's what my Grandpa told me 

"He said Angels toss them down 

"oh, how I loved that story   
  


"He said when an Angel misses you 

"they toss a penny down 

"Sometimes just to cheer you up 

"make a smile out of your frown   
  


"So don't pass by that penny 

"when you're feeling blue 

"It may be a penny from heaven 

"that an Angel's tossed to you."   
  


Placing a lace bookmark in the book to mark her place, Monica asked: "Do you think some angel's missed Mike?" 

Tess sat down beside her. "God misses him, Angel Girl. He hasn't heard from Mike for a long time, that's why He sent His angels. But it's not just the Father that Mike needs to get reacquainted with. Mike needs to get reacquainted with his own father. Before it's to late." She picked a wilted leaf off a plant right next to where she was sitting beside Monica. "More than just the plants around here are needing nourishment, Baby."   
  


Balancing the tray expertly on one hand, Andrew knocked on the door. 

"Come in." 

"Monica sent some breakfast up for you, Sir." Andrew said, opening the door and going over to where Mike sat in his bed, reading a magazine. Andrew looked every bit the personal assistant of a wealthy man. 

As Andrew placed the tray, Mike removed the book that Monica had placed on the corner of the tray. 

"What's this?" he asked, barely looking at it. 

"I believe that would be a Bible." Andrew said, eyebrow raised slightly, a bit surprised that Mike hadn't recognized the book. "Monica sends more than just nourishment for the body." He looked quickly at the eyes of his charge, and away. 

"A waste of time." Mike said, and tossed the book on the toe of the bed. "I'm not a religious nut like my father. Besides, didn't I tell you to call me Mike, not 'Sir'?" 

"Yes, I believe you did." Andrew replied with a slight smile, retrieving the Bible from the foot of the bed, and smoothing the covers of the book as he left. "I'll be back in a while to see if you're finished." 

Seeing Monica as he closed the door, Andrew raised the Bible up, for her to see that he had it. "At least you can't say he hasn't touched scripture." 

His play on words didn't bring a smile to either angel's face.   
  


"It's not working, Tess." Monica said, watching Tess at work in the kitchen. "I put the Bible on his tray, and he tossed it aside." 

"You can't just hand it to him on a silver platter, Miss Wings. You've got to be more direct. You can't nourish the body without teaching the person how to eat, and you can't nourish the soul without something there to get his attention. Now pass me the oregano." 

Monica found the oregano and passed it to her. "What's going to get his attention?" 

"That won't be easy." Andrew said, appearing across the cooking island from them. "He's not religiously inclined." 

"Babies, the Healer Himself said it wouldn't be easy, only that it would be worth it." Tess dipped a soup spoon into the pot, and brought it up, gently blowing on it to cool it. "How does this taste?" she said, holding it out for Monica, then Andrew to take a taste. 

"That's good!" Andrew said. 

"That'll certainly get his attention." Monica agreed. 

"Babies, I'll nourish him physically, I'll nourish his plants, but you two are in charge of nourishing his soul." 

Carl appeared in the kitchen, sitting on the counter."That has to be done before he'll be ready to make peace with his father, and there's not much time left. Asael just had a heart attack." 

"How is he, Baby?" Tess asked, stopping her stirring for a moment. 

Carl hopped down from the counter. "Stable for now, but he's in critical condition."   
  


Monica appeared, unseen to human eyes, in Mike's study, next to the desk where he was writing checks. 

"He's paying bills, donations to charity, two or three charities at least." Andrew said, his brows furrowed. 

Monica could hear the puzzlement in his voice. 

"He sends out these thousands to great charities, with hardly a bat of an eye." he continued, and it doesn't make a dent in his pocket book," he folded his arms, feeling a bit discomforted by it all, "or even in his soul." 

"This should help." Monica said. She opened the Bible she held to Mark, chapter 12, verses 41 thru 44, the verses were marked with a brilliant red pencil, and set it down, opened, right in front of him. 

He frowned, and shut the book, setting it aside. 

A breeze blew into the room, and Monica opened the book to the marked passages again. 

"She has cast in more than all they that cast into the treasury." Monica whispered. "Notice the penny from Heaven!" 

Again, Mike closed the book, this time turning it over. 

Monica picked up the bible, holding it gently, at a loss as to what she was to do. Mike simply wouldn't take any particular notice to what she was trying to do here. 

Frustrated, she set the book down, a little more forcefully than she would have otherwise. 

"Whoa. Easy there, Monica." Andrew said, looking at her with concern, and a questioning glance. 

"What are we doing here, Andrew? We can't get through to him." 

"Nothing, Monica, nothing is impossible with God. He can turn the most barren dessert into the most fertile ocean, if He so chooses. He loves Mike, and He can warm even the coldest of hearts. If it weren't possible, we wouldn't be here." 

"Andrew?" Mike called, with a glance at the door. 

Andrew nodded to Monica, and appeared a moment later at the door, this time visible to human eyes. 

"What can I do for you, Mike?" 

"See that these are mailed for me, would you?" He yawned widely as he straightened some papers, preparing to go upstairs for the night. "Excuse me, I'm going to go to bed soon." 

"Will do. See you in the morning." He turned, but, before leaving, he glanced at Monica, then at the bible, leading her gaze to it. Quietly, he closed the door behind him.   
  


Monica, arms folded tightly about her, frowned as she fiddled with a lump of wet soil, rolling it about with her toes. In the next moment, she squashed the little lump of soil flat with a decisive, pressing and twisting motion of the same foot. 

"There you are, Baby. What's wrong? Tell Tess about it." she said, taking the younger angel in a warm embrace. 

"I couldn't do it, Tess. I tried my best, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get Mike to take more than a cursory notice of the word of God..." 

"And you forgot that God is the one in charge here, not you. Oh, Baby." she said, hugging Monica closer to her. "God will force no man to heaven, Miss Wings, even though He most certainly could. He's given Mike his free agency, and you yours, too. You pushed the limits, and God took you off this assignment." 

"What about Mike, Tess? Who's going to nourish his soul?" 

"That will be seen to, Baby. You need to stay here and think things over for a while. Mike will heal, and his soul will be nourished, but in God's time, not Angel's time. You need your own time of nourishment right now, and this is the perfect place for it." She looked about her at the damp terrain, smelling the wet ground, and feeling the chill in the air. "Just don't let that human body of yours catch a cold." 

A small smile touched the corners of Monica's mouth. 

"One more thing, Baby." Tess said, turning back. "God loves you." 

Tess's broad smile sent a pleasant warmth through Monica as a beam of sunshine scattered the clouds, making raindrops sparkle like jewels from heaven.   
  


Carl looked up at the stars shining brightly in the night sky. He, too, had felt the warmth of the sun breaking through the clouds just as it was setting beyond the mountains, and inhaled the refreshing scent of rain washed pines. God had indeed created a beautiful world. 

Hearing foot steps, he turned. 

"Ah, Monica." 

She looked up, startled. "Carl?" 

"Yes." He stepped closer, so she could see him in the moonlight. "It's a beautiful night, don't you think? The wonders of God are around us, for all who care to look." he said, gesturing towards the beautiful scenery around them. "If He could make such wonders, think what wonders He can do with even one soul." 

"Yes. Even the soul of an angel." Monica mused, a touch of the marvel of it all that was in Carl's voice, now in hers. 

"Well, much as I'd like to stay here, I have to get back. Are you coming?" 

"Not just yet." she responded with a smile. 

"Perhaps there are still wonders yet to be seen, then." 

"Perhaps." she agreed, as another angel departed.   
  


Carl found two male nurses in his charge's hospital room, trying to hold the muttering, panicked elderly man down, while a nurse was trying to find a vein to inject some sedative, if the patient could just be held still enough. It wasn't till he got closer that he could hear what the man was muttering. 

"Carl? Carl..." 

He leaned down closer to the elderly, though far from frail gentleman. "I'm here, Asael. It's okay." 

"Carl, my son Michael..." 

"I know, Asael. There are angels with him right now. He's being taken care of." he said, then looked up to look in the face of the nurse. "He won't be needing that." 

Not sure of why, the nurse straightened up, and put the needle away. 

Asael Theiler relaxed, and eventually the two holding him down released him, and all three left the room after a moment. 

"Tell Michael I love him. I didn't mean to hurt him when I left him and his mother and sisters. I've tried to make it up to them all these years, especially to Michael... I gave them everything..." 

"He'll learn that when he's ready, but he has a journey he needs to make first before he'll be ready to accept your love for him." Carl said, adding: "...and God's love for him, too." 

Outside the intensive care unit, a nurse was looking through the window at Asael Theiler talking to himself. She shook her head as she left her watch. The earlier heart attack had obviously made the man delirious. 

"Carl, I've got to see him! He's got to know...!" Suddenly, monitors sprang to life, alerting nurses at their station. 

Asael Theiler was having another heart attack.   
  


Andrew checked to make sure that all the necessary information was on the envelopes before he dropped them in the drop box at the post office. "Michael James Theiler, Beverly Hills, CA." --that was all Mike ever put for the return address. No street address, no postal code. It was as if he didn't want to be found. 

The envelopes dropped into the box with a solid thump, and Andrew turned to leave, walking into the morning sunshine. 

"Hope you're ready, Baby. It's a big day for Mike." 

Andrew turned to face Tess, and felt, more than saw the change in his appearance. He'd felt almost exactly this same way, not to long ago, when he'd been wandering alone in the countryside, alone, but not totally alone. 

"When he wakes up, Mike Theiler is going to be one lost and confused man." Tess said. She handed Andrew the bible she'd been holding, opening it for him to read the marked passage. 

'For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' He'd hardly needed to read it, for he felt it, deep inside. 

"Mike's been given the whole world, and nearly lost his soul. When he wakes up, he'll find that he's lost his whole world, as he has come to understand it. But, Baby, that's exactly what he needs to find his soul." Her smile was such that, by its self, spoke of God's love. "There are things he needs to give, to let go of, before he can find his soul. We're fast running out of time, Angel Boy. Hurry." 

"I'll do my best, Tess." Andrew said, tucking the bible under his arm, Tess's worry carrying him every step of the way to find his assignment.   
  


Tess stopped in the doorway of the hospital room. Carl had one arm resting along the edge of Asael Theiler's bed, the other holding the man's hand. She didn't need to see his face to know that this was one weary and concerned angel. She went over to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up, then back down at his charge. "It was so close, Tess." he said, the weariness showing itself in his voice. "He's lost control of the majority of his body, and he can't speak anymore. We could have gone Home this last time, but he wouldn't take my hand." 

"He will when he's ready, Baby, in God's time." 

Tess took Asael's hand from Carl, holding it lovingly in her own. "You relax now, Asael. Andrew's with your son right now, and Carl's here with you. Things will work out." She patted that hand, then gently placed it back in Carl's. "Right now, I have another angel I need to see to." She turned towards the doorway, and vanished from sight just before going through it.   
  


Andrew found Mike Theiler sleeping in a dumpster in a dark, forsaken alleyway. He sat down against the dumpster, and pulled his coat up around his face. It was promising to be a cold day, and he didn't want to get cold, even if he were to remain out of sight of human eyes for a while. 

He saw another figure at the end of the alley, stooping down to pick something up off the ground. He could see the man's joy as he tossed the small object, and caught it again. 

Standing, the man put the thing in a pocket somewhere in his shabby clothing, and shifted the book he carried, tussling his already tussled pale strawberry red hair with the now empty hand. He turned, and seeing the figure against the dumpster, waived. 

Carl. Andrew couldn't help smiling at the sight of his fellow Angel of Death, and Carl certainly presented a sight! 

"I thought you were suppose to be with Asael Theiler." Andrew said as Carl approached. 

"I've been re-assigned." Carl replied, leaning up against the opposite wall. "It seems that, since I've gotten to know Asael, it's time I get to know his son." he said, nodding at the trash dumpster, from which sounds of someone awakening could be heard. He gave a back-to-business nod to Andrew, and crouched down, scrounging in the trash lining the alley.   
  


Carl limped into the Homeless shelter, with the aid of Mike Theiler. 'Mike's not such a bad guy after all.' he thought, easing into the chair. 'Course, he looks like just another homeless man, too.' 

"Wait here, I'll go get some help." Mike said, hurrying off. 

Carl nodded, rubbing the sore leg. He'd gotten a good kick as Mike had stumbled about the narrow alley just a few buildings down from here. 

"Andrew, you'd better get over with Asael. If I can't get Mike turned around here in time, you're going to have to be the one to take Asael Home." Carl said, and smiled with a shake of his head. "If there's one thing like father like son, both of these Theiler boys are stubborn as all..." 

"Hello, Carl." Monica said. 

He looked up at where the thick Irish lilt was coming from, and saw Monica, hair caught behind her in a loose braid. 

"Let me take a look at that." she continued, smiling in that way she had that would put anyone at ease. "Just a minor bump. You're going to be okay. Would you two like some soup?" she asked, getting up and heading for the kitchen. 

"No thanks. I don't want to impose." Mike protested. 

"Oh, you're not imposing." 

"At least let me give you a hand, then." 

Carl, foot still propped up on a chair, shook his head as he pulled out his bible and began reading. "So," he said aloud, mostly to himself, "when do we make our move?" 

"Now, Baby." Tess said, hands resting on the back of the chair Carl's foot was on. She looked over as Mike Theiler was approaching, carrying two bowls of soup, being careful not to spill them. "You don't have much time, not that there ever was much time, and you're going to have to make it plain and simple." 

"Chicken noodle soup." Mike said, setting the bowls down on the nearby table. 

One of the workers at the shelter came in, looking through the day's mail. "Oh look. The mail's come. We've got another donation from Mr High and Mighty Michael James Theiler. Pennies from Heaven." The homeless shelter worker huffed as she dropped the mail on the kitchen counter. "I bet it didn't even make a dent in his pocket book, let alone his soul!" 

Monica glanced up at the two angels across the room. 

"That ungrateful..." Mike was muttering, trying to remain unnoticed. 

" 'And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury: and many that were rich cast in much. And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing. And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury: For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living.' " 

"What?" He knew what he'd heard, but it held no meaning for him, and it showed itself in the tone of his voice. 

"Mark 12:41-44." 

"So?" Mike replied, shrugging. 

"The widow gave everything she had, a farthing, but the rich men, though they gave a greater sum, what they gave didn't mean as much to them as the farthing did to the widow." 

"So?" he repeated. 

"Michael, you're just giving token payments to charity, so you can get a tax write off. You've been given the whole world, but you've been letting it go to your head." 

Mike was shaking his head, forehead against the palm of one hand. 

Carl had returned his bible to it's pocket, and stood up, his leg no longer hurting. 

"Mark 8:36-37." he said, as if testing his memory. " 'For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' Mike, your donations to charity are being done only for the benefit of a tax write off. God doesn't want you to loose your soul for all the treasures and rewards of this world." 

"And who are you to say what God wants?" Angry, he looked up, and the next thought froze before it could be put into words. 

Carl stood, wearing a well kept white suit that seemed to be glowing. But the glow was more than just the suit, the glow surrounded him from head to toe. 

"God loves you, Michael James Theiler. He knows your father left you when you were younger, and that your father meant well in giving you every material thing you could want. But your father gave you more than just things." He looked up at Monica. 

Mike turned, and saw Monica. She, too, was glowing, and wearing a white dress that seemed to shimmer. "Your father gave you the word of God, too, Mike." She extended the bible that had been offered to him earlier, the cover now bent from it's rough handling when it had been tossed aside. 

He took it, gently caressing it now, feeling the leather, recognizing more than the fact that it was just a bible. It was a particular bible. "This was my fathers." 

"Yes. He wanted you to have it. He was hoping you'd remember." 

He smiled to himself. "Ya." He waved it. "More than just this. I had a good time when I was a kid, with dad. But then he left, and I resented him, and..." He paused, realizing what Monica had said. "My father's still alive? I'd heard he'd been in an accident and died a few years ago." 

Carl pulled up a chair and sat down beside Mike. He was a grown man, and wise in the ways of the world, but there was still more he needed to learn. Not all of it could be learned now, but there would be time for him. Asael, however, was running out of time. He turned his gaze from Andrew, who was standing beside Tess, wearing a grim look on his face, a look that said there wasn't much time left. 

"Your father's still alive, Mike, but not for long. He's had a series of heart attacks, and he doesn't have much longer." 

For a moment, Mike wavered, then decided. "I've got to see him. He's my dad." 

Carl nodded, as if to himself, and the room disappeared around them.   
  


Mike took a step forward to balance himself, till he could focus on his surroundings. He took in all that was around him, barely noticing the thin, pale man laying in the bed, but settling instead on the person in the chair beside the bed, recognizing him. "Andrew! It's so nice to see a familiar face!" 

Andrew stood, and turned to face him. He didn't appear surprised at Mike's presence, or that of Monica and Carl. 

"What are you doing here?" Mike continued. 

"I'm visiting your father." 

At the mention of his father, Mike's curiosity as to what his personal assistant was doing here changed. "How is he?" 

"He's not doing very well. He's had numerous heart attacks, and shouldn't have even survived the first one. It's as if something's keeping him here." 

Mike sank into the chair that Andrew had vacated. He leaned back against the back of the chair, and, with his right hand in a loose fist, tapped the knuckle of his index finger against his lower lip. He looked at the bible he still held, exhaled a little puff of air at the impossibility of it all. 

"Andrew, do you know how I got this? You're going to think I'm crazy." 

Andrew clasped his hands loosely in front of him, head tilting downward just a bit, as if to possibly catch the man's eyes. "I promise I won't think you're crazy." 

Another little puff of air escaped. "You just might. This book," he continued, diving right in, "was given to me by an Angel. Oh, it was my fathers, but an angel gave it to me. He was keeping it for me till I was ready to accept it." He turned the book over in his hands, not looking up at Andrew, feeling the browned pages, worn with use. He patted the closed book against his leg. "I'm the one keeping him here." 

He moved forward onto the edge of his chair, took his father's frail hand, now so much smaller than his own. The last time they'd held hands, it was his father's hand that had been so much bigger. 

"Dad. I'm here..." He swallowed, a bit nervous, not knowing if his father could even hear. 

Asael opened his eyes, turned his head. 'Mike!' If he could only form the words..., but his mouth opened, unable to form the words he wanted to say. 

"Dad. I found your book." He shook his head. "You wouldn't believe how I came across it. I just wanted to say thanks. I know you did your best. Most kids don't ever find their dads again." 

Asael squeezed his son's hand, then the hand gripped tighter, as spasms wracked his body again, and monitors screeched at the onset of another heart attack. 

Monica came forward, and placed a hand on Mike's arm as Andrew, glowing with the Light from Heaven, squatted down beside Asael Theiler's bed, and gently released the older man's grip on Mike. 

"You! You're an angel!" 

Andrew nodded. "Yes, I am." He turned from meeting Mike's gaze for a moment, and searched Asael Theiler's face. "Asael, it's time." 

'Carl...' Asael Theiler called, the voice of his spirit clearer now that the time to go Home was so close. 

"I'm here, Asael." Carl took his charge's hand, and helped him sit up. 

Asael looked at his boy. So much time had passed! "Michael James Theiler, my only boy... I'm so proud of you!" he said, wanting to run a hand through Mike's hair, just as he had many years ago. 

Mike felt tears coming, he thought he'd heard his father say how proud he was of his boy, and felt as though he were once again a little boy learning how to add up those pennies for the first time again. 

"Pennies from Heaven..." Monica whispered in his ear. "You've been given one more time with your father, an experience worth more than what the whole world could give you. Once, you exchanged your soul for what the world offered. What will you give in exchange for your soul?" 

The heart monitors flat-lined, giving a steady mono-toned beep, as two angels stood by the side of Asael Theiler, on the edge of the Light from Heaven. As Monica went to join them, wiping a tear from her eye, the feeling in the room was that of the priorities of one rich man re-arranging themselves. 


End file.
